


Life's Too Short

by sffan



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7680619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sffan/pseuds/sffan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel is more upset than he should be by Jack's brush with death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life's Too Short

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is from a previous archive, written between 2002 and 2008. No additional changes or edits have been made since it’s original posting date and none will be. 
> 
> Original note: Coda to Brief Candle.

"For cryin’ out loud, Daniel! I was drugged!" I shout at him. "I expect this kind of bullshit attitude from Carter, but not from you."

"What kind of attitude is that?" he asks pissily – just like everything else he’s said to me in the past few weeks.

"This!" I yell and gesture at him and the way he’s looking at me like I’m something the cat barfed up on his expensive shoes. "I never expected you to be such a prude. Especially considering how you got *your* wife." Oh crap. Did I just say that? Shit. I watch his face turn to stone. I step towards him reaching for his arm, and say quietly, "I’m sorry, Daniel. That was a low blow."

"Yes it was," he replies harshly, crossing his arms and stepping away from me.

"I shouldn’t have…" I start, dropping my hand.

"No, you shouldn’t have," he says looking down at his feet, avoiding my eyes.

"I just don’t understand why you’re being like this. Why you’re giving me the cold shoulder like this. I admit it, I…"

"You almost died," Daniel says softly, still avoiding my eyes.

"But I didn’t," I reply moving towards him.

"You could have," Daniel responds, his head finally coming up. I actually take a step back from the cold anger I see in them. "You could have DIED because you just couldn’t keep it in your pants!" he yells at me.

I’m a little shocked at the vehemence behind Daniel’s words, but I take another step forward until we’re almost nose to nose.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Daniel? I.was. DRUGGED!" That last bit came out as a roar, but no way am I putting up with taking the full blame on this one and no way am I going to let him know that the reason I let those villagers drag me away was that I was about ten seconds from crawling all over Daniel and trying to find out if I could actually stick my tongue all the way down his throat.

* * *

I’m suddenly very aware of Jack’s scent. It’s not cologne, never cologne – you can’t sneak up on an enemy if he can smell you coming – but it’s something rich and masculine and so very Jack. I go still and stare into Jack’s eyes. There’s *something* there, something I can’t quite put my finger on. "Jack?" I ask quietly. And suddenly, he’s gone – not just out of my personal space, but out the door and down the hall, leaving me frowning into space.

I shake my head and return to the translation I was working on before Jack barged into my office and started yelling at me. I pick up my pencil and watch it jiggle as the reaction hits me. I put it back down and take a deep breath, trying to center myself, trying to make my brain stop spinning around and around the one essential truth that has been driving me crazy since we returned from Kynthia’s planet – that I was terrified of losing Jack. Just the thought of Jack dying was enough to make me feel sick – watching it happen before my very eyes…it had been unbearable. It had hurt as much as losing Sha’ure had and it hadn’t even happened.

I take my glasses off and scrub at my face. Sha’ure. My beloved. When I concentrate, I can still feel her long, beautiful hair curling around my hands, still smell the faint cinnamon aroma of her skin, and still feel that last, toe-curling kiss that she brazenly, uncharacteristically, bestowed on me in front of everyone – she had always been very private about displays of affection – and I think I finally understand why.

Jack.

She knew. How she knew when I didn’t, I have no idea, but she did. It’s only just now beginning to dawn on me that I may be more than a little in love with Colonel Jack O’Neill, USAF. And if the military rank and the accompanying barbaric "don’t ask, don’t tell" policy wasn’t enough to make me bang my head against the wall and scream in frustration, I have to have this doozy of an epiphany about three point four seconds after I’ve witnessed incontrovertible proof of his heterosexuality.

*Way to go, Jackson, could you be just a little more pathetic?* I think and then decide that there’s really no point in trying to get any more work done today. I grab my glasses and head for the showers. I’m not sure why, but even when I haven’t been off-world, I take a shower before leaving the SGC. I’m sure a head-shrinker would have a field day with that one.

It’s a weird time of day and the showers are deserted – just the way I like it. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the whole communal shower thing, but I act like it doesn’t bother me because I know I’ll get hassled if anyone senses how uncomfortable it makes me.

I get undressed, grab a towel, and head for the stalls. I turn the water on as hot as I can bear it and get in. I stand under the spray, head hanging down and just let the spray pound against my skin.

* * *

*Dammit*, I think to myself as I enter the locker room. Well, I know it’s not Carter, because she was the one who said I looked like shit and should go home before Janet saw me and stuck me in the infirmary for another round of post de-aging poke and prod. Smart woman, that Carter. Only there’s someone here and I’m pretty sure I know who it is. Shit.

Sighing, I undress and grab a towel. I am not going to run from this. I’m a grown-up, I can deal. Besides, I could really use a hot shower, my neck is killing me. I wrap the towel around my waist and head towards the sound of running water.

And stop dead in my tracks when I see him. I get light-headed from the rush of blood from my brain to my dick. I’ve seen Daniel in the showers before, but for the first time I guess I let myself *see* him. Christ, he’s gorgeous – like one of those Greek gods he goes on about every now and again. His eyes are closed, so I take advantage of the situation and just stare at him, my heart thudding in my chest. I guess I must make a sound, because suddenly, his eyes are open and looking right at me. They widen in surprise and his beautiful, lush – pornographic – mouth opens in shock when he sees the unmistakable tent in my towel.

"Do you understand now, Daniel?" I ask quietly when he drags his eyes back up to my face. "Do you get why I had to get away from you?"

He nods, his eyes still wide in astonishment. I’m searching them, looking for the disgust, but there’s none to be found. He doesn’t make a sound, just drops his eyes and looks up at me through his lashes, blushes furiously, and holds out his hand in invitation.

The towel is on the floor behind me and I’m on him so fast he doesn’t get a chance to react beyond gasping before my mouth takes his in a fierce kiss. I know I’m hurting him because my own lips are mashed against my teeth, but I can’t seem to gentle the kiss. I devour him like a starving man. My hands are tangled in his hair and I hold him tight and close and try to suck his tongue out of his head. He clutches at me, fingers digging into my back and returns the kiss just as fiercely. Tongues tangle, teeth clack, I taste the metallic tang of blood and I’m not sure who it’s from.

We break for air and I see the confusion in his expression, tinted though it is by desire. "Jack, I don’t understand," he says. "You’re not…"

"Gay?" I finish his question. "No, but neither are you. And yet, here we have some pretty *hard* proof," I reply bucking my hips against his, trapping our erections between our bodies, and making him gasp again, "that we may be just a wee bit bisexual." I grin at him. "Can’t beat empirical evidence."

"No, no we can’t," he replies and then the bastard licks his lips and I’m on him again – kissing him like our lives depended on it.

We’re trying desperately to be quiet and I know we have to stop. Someone could walk in on us at any moment, but I can’t stop, not now, not with Daniel in my arms and *oh God* arching against me. Hard, god, he’s so hard and pushing against me – rubbing, thrusting – his hands on my ass, pulling me closer. I drag one hand out of his hair, grab his ass hard, and pull him even closer. We’re grinding against each other, going at it like maniacs, moaning into each other’s mouths, clutching and bumping and twisting and suddenly I’m coming harder than I’ve come in years. I swear my heart stops. I’m gasping so loudly for air that I almost miss Daniel’s whispered, "Jack," right before his body jerks against mine and warm come splashes against my stomach and wilting cock.

I look at him and his eyes are half closed and dazed and I cup his face with one hand and I lean in and give him the slow, lazy kiss that I wanted to be our first kiss. I push his wet hair out of his face and say, " Sorry, Daniel. I didn’t want it to be like this – rough and hard and so…"

He stops me with a finger on my lips and smiles wickedly at me. If I were a younger man, I think that look just might start round two. "Do I look like I’m complaining?" he asks. I grin back at him and then he says, "But if it’s bothering you so much, why don’t you take me home, Jack, and show me how you meant it to be."

So I did. And I do. I show him every chance I get, because you know what? Life’s too damn short.


End file.
